Passing on the Will of Fire, a Pareiodlia Omake
by RandomOTP
Summary: Oneshot: Jiraiya sees a troubled man and can't resist his inner grandfather's desire to help. Takes placed in Ziltoid's fanfic Pareidolia, after the Fire Temple, so SPOILERS for that. It's my first work, quite proud of how it turned out, actually! Not that good at summaries, give it a read? (rated T just in case)


Genkuro had woken up in a cold sweat and, in the predawn's weak light, he could see that Temari and Tayuya curled up to him, sharing in the warmth that Genkuro so naturally exuded. For a moment, Genkuro had tried to relax and let their deep, rhythmic breathing calm him down, as it had before. But it wouldn't today, not this morning. This morning, Genkuro's heart rampaged inside of him, and the room they shared in the fire temple felt far smaller than it had been when they went to sleep.

Unable to remain still, Genkuro slipped out of bed slowly, and did so with a gentle grace that would be the envy of many ninja, so that he wouldn't wake the two people precious to him up. Though he didn't know why, Temari and Tayuya's warmth needed more rest than his own did. It was then that he had walked into the surrounding forest to watch the sun rise. It was familiar. It reminded him of something. There was something about the rising sun resonated with Genkuro. It seemed to vaguely remind him of training. And, after a brief hesitation, Genkuro added "toads" to the list. He didn't know why, though, and that frustrated him.

Genkuro stood by the roots of one of the larger trees, with his back to the temple. Watching the sky, he tried to distract himself from the fragmented shards that had bombarded him while he slumbered. The early morning sky, cast in great streaks of golden and red hues helped to distract Genkuro from his dreams, and how they taunted him with their incompleteness –torturing him with their hints, whispered just low enough that he couldn't hear what they said.

As Genkuro watched the sun rise, the distinction between the various shades of red and gold faded. A cloud, cast in a blood-red hue by the rising sun, was shaped vaguely like the foxes that he had seen, darting this way and that, in the forest surrounding the temple. Genkuro could feel their warmth, resting and smouldering to regain their zeal –not dissimilar to the warmth of his still-slumbering friends.

Genkuro watched the sunrise sky with a new interest, focusing on the oddly shaped cloud. It seemed similar to something. Not exactly familiar in the passingly unclear way that Temari had once been, but it seemed familiar in the way that the pervert was: like a forgotten, once-treasured dream. Through his musings, an early morning drop of dew fell from a leaf over his head, and landed on the damp forested floor, making the smallest of dripping sounds.

 _Drip . . . drip . . . the echoes reverberated within the dark place. Blood-red eyes, filled with a type of fiery warmth that hungered with an insatiable urge to destroy and to break, to burn and to immolate. To consume and to raze the world to the ground. The hunger was ancient in its desire, and as old as the blindingly white-hot warmth that it originated from._

 _The dripping continued, echoing in the place until it faded into nothingness…_

A sudden crack brought Genkuro out of his fragment. As he turned to see what had caused the sound of splintering wood, his eyes fell on Jiraiya.

Jiraiya slowly got off the ground, muttering incoherently as he picked splinters out of his face and shoulders. He had walked by to see how Genkuro was sleeping. The kid hadn't been sleeping well, and he reminded Jiraiya far too much of Naruto for him not to be worried for the mysterious youngster. How was it his fault that the toad sage had stumbled on to some premium research material? It was a gift from Kami that he had found Tayuya and Temari, both very beautiful konoichi, sleeping with each other, arms wrapper around one another. How was he expected to pass such an opportunity up? Unfortunately for him, Kami must have a sense of humor, with Temari waking up just as the legendary pervert had gotten out his pen . . .

The sannin's line of thought was dismissed as he saw the face of Genkuro looking at him. Inwardly, Jiraiya sighed. If it weren't for the orbs of flame spiraling within the gaki's eyes, Genkuro could have been a carbon copy of Naruto. This of course, had led to suspicions that itched in the back of his mind. Part of Jiraiya, the part that had once been a spymaster, said that Genkuro might be Naruto. After all, when do jinchuuriki follow the rules? Even the rules of life and death were known to bend around the jailers.

Smothering the thought, the sannin took a closer look at the young man's face. Genkuro had a look of uneasy contemplation on his face, as though he were thinking troubled thoughts. Jiraiya had seen the look before. Naruto, had days where the burden of being the Kyuubi's jinchuuriki wore on him, and would often have that look on his face. But his deceased apprentice would never let it show whenever anyone might be watching. And even then, never more than a fleeting second. After that, the mask of a loudmouth fool would be put back on, and the day would continue as usual. For Jiraiya, those moments broke his heart.

Cleaning up his nosebleed before Genkuro could ask Jiraiya how he had it (or more concerning, _who_ had given it to him) he strode over beside the troubled enigma. Genkuro merely watched the sun rise, his thoughts on less pleasant things.

Jiraiya, his face angled toward the sunrise but his eyes on Genkuro, put a tentative hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong," Jiraiya asked. His voice was soft and concerned, reflecting a seriousness that the pervert didn't often show.

Genkuro didn't take his eyes off the sunrise. A pale blue began to take shape, forming within the small spaces where the red and golden hues had begun to fade. The sage's warmth felt gentle, a concerned warmth. It was like a campfire, in a way. But the concern also had a bitter guilt that was oddly twisted and conjoined with a proud joy.

One caused the other, Genkuro guessed, but they were so intertwined that he could not tell which caused which. And he could feel that the sannin's concern, too, was connected to the strange mixture, yet separate. Genkuro didn't understand, but he decided to speak. The pervert was trustworthy, after a fashion. How he knew this, he didn't know. He just did.

"I remembered," Genkuro began. "A hungering inferno of heat. It was hungry for the world, for the plants, and for everything. But the blaze was used to protect a safer warmth. A peaceful warmth. The two could not have existed near to each other, but they did. And they were pained."

Jiraiya looked at the enigmatic teenager with a pondering look. The kid was confused, troubled even. And frankly, so was he. Hunger . . . that sounded like the corrupted seals his fellow sannin had developed. But it could also mean one of the bijuu.

Was Genkuro connected to Orochimaru in some way? The jinchuuriki? The questions piled up, and none of them seemed to have an answer.

 _But Genkuro obviously thinks this "hunger" is wrong. Evil, even,_ Jiraiya thought. _Maybe he's debating on it was right to use such a vile power to protect? Or is it even possible, for that matter? Does he know . . ._ The pervert sat down, silent, his mind wandering back to the days of his youth. Chasing after Tsunade . . . bickering with Orochimaru, before he had . . . Minato, the one he had bonded with, and felt a fatherly protectiveness for . . .

Genkuro glanced at the super-pervert. Jiraiya's expression softened into a look of tenderness as he looked to the young man beside him. "Tell me, kid," Jiraiya asked, his voice so quiet that the morning breeze almost carried it away. "Have you heard of the Will of Fire?"

Genkuro looked at the sannin, confused. The name explained itself. The Will of Fire. It seemed obvious, so he did what Tayuya did when things were obvious. Genkuro snorted. "Yes, pervert," he drawled in a scarily accurate interpretation of Tayuya when she was annoyed.

Jiraiya blinked, surprised. Then, after roaring in laughter, the toad sage told Genkuro to explain what it was, that he would clarify any "inevitable errors." Inwardly, the sannin tensed. He had taught Naruto about the shodaime's Will of Fire, so if Genkuro already knew of it . . .

Genkuro walked up to a fallen tree, its bark had begun to rot off, decaying back into the earth. Genkuro blinked his fiery eyes, and the log erupted into his unique brand of flame. The fire quickly turned the free to ash upon the forest floor, and soon, even that was devoured by the fire. With its fuel gone, Genkuro brought his flames back to himself, where they vanished into his skin.

Genkuro turned to Jiraiya, smiling in pride. "I have fire," he explained, gesturing to where the fallen tree had once been, "And it was moved by my will." Jiraiya looked to Genkuro with a mixture of disappointment and mirth.

The pervert shook his head. "No, the Will of Fire is not a kekkei genkai," the sage deadpanned, causing Genkuro's smile to fade into a look of confusion.

"Warmth, then. Your warmth keeps changing. Does it have to do with your warmth," Genkuro countered, sure he had found the answer this time.

Jiraiya sighed. This may take a while.


End file.
